


Talk to Me (I Promise I'll Listen)

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Series: Monty/Carl ‘verse [1]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: (there's both o k a y), Asking Out, Bisexual Character, Black Eye, Blushing, Coming Out, Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gay Character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Injury, M/M, POV Third Person, niche hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 12:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15243492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Monty's got a lot on his plate. It's nice that he has someone that's willing to listen to him. And to, y'know, put bruise cream on his black eye.





	Talk to Me (I Promise I'll Listen)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Priestlyislove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/gifts).



> This fic is most definitely one hundred percent dedicated to @priestlyislove because he got me into this NICHE HELLSHIP and forced me to re-evaluate my entire thought-process around them. (I love him for it tho lbr.)

“Sir, I found the paperwork you were looking for yesterday.” Carl knocked twice on the door to Major Monogram’s office before pushing it open. “Apparently, Agent G got ahold of it. It’s still legible; I took the liberty of copying everything into the system, but I figured you’d want the… original… papers…?” The office was dark, with a figure hunched over the desk, head down against folded arms. At first glance, Carl assumed it was the Major. “Sir?” But, upon stepping nervously further into the office, it became clear that the figure at the desk wasn’t Major Monogram at all. 

“...Monty?” 

The figure sniffled, coughed into his arms against the desk. “Hey, Carl.” He sounded like he’d been… crying? Or he was sick. Carl was immediately much more prepared to accept the latter than the former, when it came to Monty Monogram.

“Are… you alright?” Now certain the he wasn’t about to be yelled at for intruding on something he shouldn’t be, Carl shut the door to the office and gingerly crossed the room to set the papers down on the edge of the desk. Monty remained still in his seat. 

“That’d be a negative.”

Carl frowned, absently straightening the pile of papers. “What’s wrong?” 

Monty finally pushed himself into a proper sitting position, swiping at his nose with a sleeve-covered arm. “I, uh—“

“Oh my god. Your  _ eye _ .” Carl interrupted him without thinking, his own eyes going wide at the first good look he’d gotten at Monty since he’d come into the room. Monty looked… rather worse for wear, if Carl was being honest. His right eye was red and puffy —again, Carl had to wonder if he’d been crying— but his left was swollen, half-shut even against the dimly-lit office. “Monty, what  _ happened _ ?” 

“You should see the other guy,” Monty deadpanned. The effect was somewhat ruined when he sniffled directly after that, and Carl frowned. 

“Hang on.” He knelt down beside the desk, felt around for a moment, and then popped a secret compartment. He pulled out a box of tissues and a first-aid kit and set them both on the desk, pushing the tissues pointedly towards Monty. 

Monty pulled one out immediately. “Thanks.” He blew his nose and tossed the tissue into the trash behind the desk. “Where did those come from?”

“All OWCA standard-issue desks have secret compartments,” Carl explained primly, rising again after shutting the compartment. “Your dad doesn’t bother with his, so I keep a couple of things in there for emergencies.” 

“That’s pretty neat,” Monty said appraisingly after a moment. Carl felt his cheeks heat under the speculative gaze, and shrugged a little more forcefully than he meant to. 

“I just like to be prepared, that’s all.” 

Monty huffed out a bitter laugh. “This is what I’ve been talking about.”

Lost, Carl could only blink at Monty. Monty sighed, shaking his head. 

“Sorry, I just…” He brought a hand up to rub at his face, cringing when he brushed his bruised eye. “The reason I’m here… You were curious, right?” Monty didn’t wait for an answer. “My dad told me he wanted to talk to me, which… You know my dad. He said he wanted me to meet him here, in his office. Which meant that he wanted to talk about my  _ career _ .” He spit the word like it was cursed. “And he did. And I keep telling him that I don’t want to do this, to be the head of OWCA, because that’s just… not my thing, y’know?” Carl nodded sympathetically. He was well-aware of Monty’s aversion to leading; if Monty was going to do anything for OWCA, he’d be some kind of field agent. That’s what he was good at. “But he keeps going on and on about it. And so I told him again that I didn’t want it, and he ignored me, and I told him again, and I keep…  _ telling  _ him and he doesn’t listen. So finally I told him that he needed to consider other people for the job, because there’s people like  _ you—“  _ Monty looked pointedly up at him, then, and Carl found himself frozen beneath the gaze, pinned to the spot by his intensity. “—that care more about this agency than I do, that know the ins and outs of this place and that can actually be a leader, and he finally left the office telling me we’d ‘talk about it later.’” Monty groaned. “Which we won’t. We never do.”

”I…” Carl wasn’t sure what to say. The fact that Monty had suggested  _ him _ to succeed Major Monogram at OWCA? Carl had thought about it, yes, and he loved OWCA with his entire being but he’d never actually given any stock to the fantasy before. It was just… something that he thought about, sometimes. That was it. 

For Monty to see it, to  _ support  _ it? Carl had no idea how he was supposed to react. 

“How did— Your eye—?” Carl finally asked, the change of subject weak. His fingers were playing absently along the edge of the first-aid kit he’d put on the desk, itching to open it up and find something that would help that god-awful bruise. 

“Oh, that?” Monty shrugged, shaking his head. “It was stupid.”

“Monty. It looks… bad.” Carl silently gestured to the first-aid kit, and Monty nodded once, just a small jerk of his head. Carl took the silent signal for what it was and popped the kit open. “Was it a mission?”

“Yeah, right.” Monty gave a humourless laugh. “Because I’m  _ so  _ allowed to go on those.” Carl winced. Even he found it ridiculous that Monogram expected Monty to succeed him, but wouldn’t even let him test his strengths in the field. Monogram had been a powerful asset, once upon a time. How was Monty supposed to be the same if he wasn’t allowed to show himself off? 

“No, it was… something else.” 

Carl frowned, but didn’t press the issue for the moment. Instead, he focused on digging through the kit until he came up with a slender capped tube. “This is a salve for bruising. It should help with the pain. I swear that it helps with the healing, too, even if your dad never believes me.” He offered the tube, but Monty wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, he was staring down at the desk, jaw tight. Carl frowned. “Monty?”

“Will you do it?” Monty asked, the words quiet. Carl felt his own eyes widen again. 

“Um… sure.” Awkwardly, Carl fumbled his way around the desk in the half-darkness, until he was on the same side as Monty. He placed two fingers against Monty’s chin, tilting his head up gently so that he could better see the bruising and apply the salve. 

“Thanks.” Monty was still avoiding his gaze, but Carl was more focused on not hurting him, now, than on the fact that Monty wouldn’t look at him. “You’re… really good at this kind of stuff.” 

Carl gave a tiny laugh. “It’s my job,” he stated, moving his hand to Monty’s cheek to tilt his head a little more. He could almost ignore their proximity, if he just… didn’t think about it. Almost. 

Satisfied with the positioning, Carl uncapped the tube and squeezed a small dollop of the salve onto his index finger. 

“No, it isn’t,” Monty said quietly. 

“Hm?”

“This isn’t your job. First-aid training, extensive knowledge of OWCA’s protocols and procedures… that’s not part of being an intern. But you do it anyway. You deserve a better position here way more than I do.” 

Carl bit his lip as he spread the salve, watching Monty’s face closely for any sign that he was pressing too hard against the bruised skin. “I just… I care about OWCA,” he said quietly. “And I like learning. I… don’t know about deserving anything. This is just what I do.” 

“Just… agree with me, would you, Carl?” Monty’s lips quirked upwards into a tiny grin, despite the fact that he was still avoiding looking anywhere near Carl. “Thou doth protest too much.” 

“I…” Carl swallowed. Accepting compliments wasn’t really… something he did. Not that there were ever very many compliments to accept. “Alright. Thank you, Monty.”

Monty didn’t answer, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but silence between them as Carl carefully applied the salve. The sound of their breathing was the only thing to break it, and Carl forced himself not to think about the fact that he could feel Monty’s breath on his face as he worked. 

Monty eventually broke the silence. “Carl, can I ask you… a personal question?” 

Personal? Sure, he and Monty talked, sometimes, but it was mostly work-related, or one of them complaining about Major Monogram. They rarely got  _ personal.  _ “Sure. Of course.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as squeaky as it suddenly felt. 

“You’re gay, right?” 

Carl couldn’t tell if he was relieved or even more nervous when the question was asked. He’d never made a secret of his sexuality; he was well-aware that Major Monogram didn’t care enough about the matter —or about him— to question it, and one pro to working with a bunch of animals meant that nobody really gave a hoot about the conventions of human sexuality. It was actually pretty convenient. 

“Yeah?” Carl tried not to sound as confused as he felt at the sudden change in topic. “I, um, didn’t think it was a secret?”

“No, I know that, I mean— I didn’t want to  _ assume _ , but…” Monty was wiggling his head a little as he spoke, and Carl placed his free hand back on his cheek to keep him still. “That… wasn’t my question. I mean. It  _ was  _ my question, but that’s not what I was trying to say.” 

Carl was pretty sure he’d never seen Monty anywhere near this flustered before. His skin was warm underneath the palm of Carl’s hand, and he was  _ stammering _ , which Carl had  _ never  _ heard of before. Monty was always cool, calm, collected. 

“...okay?” Carl said, waiting for Monty to continue. Monty huffed out a frustrated breath, was silent for a moment, and then— 

“I’m bisexual.” 

The words burst forth, bubbling out and shoving their way roughly from Monty’s lips, as though he’d been keeping them back from behind a dam that had suddenly broken. Carl hadn’t been expecting it, but… It wasn’t a bad thing. And it certainly wasn’t anything for anyone to be so scared about. 

But Carl took another long look at Monty, strong, suave Monty, and… maybe it was. Because Monty was the picture of a ‘regular person,’ and he’d always had his life planned for him by a father with big dreams, and… this wasn’t there. This wasn’t anything like what had been mapped out for him. And that had to be terrifying. 

“That’s… cool,” Carl said slowly, a small smile on his face. He finished applying the salve and stepped back a little, the back of his legs bumping up against the desk. Monty let out a huge breath, finally looking up at him. 

“I tried to come out to some friends of mine. Didn’t go so well,” Monty told him. He gestured upwards, towards his face, and it finally clicked; Carl’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head before he caught himself. 

“Jesus, Monty, they—“

“Yeah. Apparently, I need to find some new friends.” The words were casual, obviously meant to come off as a joke, but there was an underlying hurt to them. Carl reached for a tissue, wiping the remaining salve from his fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly. Monty shrugged a little, but Carl shook his head. “It’s… not always easy, but you’ll find the right people to hang around with.” Carl had. He didn’t have many friends, but there were a few people that he could hang around in his free time that accepted him for who he was. Dedicating most of his life to OWCA just meant that he… didn’t usually get free time. 

“I guess.” Monty reached up, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Thanks for the cream, for the…” He gestured at his face again. “It actually feels better already.” 

“I told you,” Carl said with a small smile. He reached out on a whim, brushing his fingers over Monty’s shoulder before squeezing it gently, reassuringly. “I know we don’t always… talk, like this, but if you ever want to… I don’t mind. I’m here to talk.” 

Monty’s hand shot up, grabbing onto Carl’s own with an intensity that surprised him. But he let it happen, too shocked to do anything else. A moment later, Monty seemed to realise what he’d done and let go again, clearing his throat. With his eyes adjusted to the office’s half-light, Carl could have sworn Monty was blushing. 

“Well. Major Monogram is probably wondering where I am.” Carl patted the stack of papers on the desk as he stepped back again, sidestepping the desk and heading towards the door. 

“Thank you,” Monty said quietly. Carl just nodded and smiled in his direction before pushing the door open. “Carl?!”

Carl paused, turning his head to look over his shoulder. Monty had half-risen from the chair, and there was a pained, nervous expression on his face. 

“I… wanted to ask you something else.” Monty paused, but Carl just cocked his head a little to the side, waiting for him to continue. Monty seemed to steel himself. “You… offered to… Ugh. I was wondering if you’d like to… go somewhere, sometime. With me. As… a date?” Monty cringed. “I sound like an idiot.” 

“No!” Carl winced as Monty’s gaze shot up to him. “I mean, no, you don’t sound like an idiot.” Carl felt like he was going to start vibrating like Pinky the Chihuahua, his entire body lighting up as the question sunk in. “Yes. I would… definitely go on a date with you. Like it! I would…  _ like  _ to go on a date with you.” 

Monty looked relieved. “Really?”

Carl nodded fervently. “Definitely.”

“I’ll text you?” Monty offered, and Carl couldn’t help the delighted grin that spread across his face. 

“I will definitely answer that text.”

Monty laughed, the first real laugh that Carl had seen from him in their entire conversation. “Cool.”

“Cool.” Carl continued to grin at him for a moment, until he realised that he was at work, and that he really needed to go. “Ah! I’ll see you later, then! I’ve gotta, um… Y’know.” 

Monty waved him off. “I’ll text you,” he repeated, and Carl nodded again, turning and heading out the door. He found himself squinting against the regular lighting of the office, but he didn’t quit smiling, even when Major Monogram spilled his coffee not ten minutes later and demanded a new cup. 

**Author's Note:**

> N I C H E H E L L
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans  
> Kudos/comments are love!


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